


Textbook

by sigynstark



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Drug Use, F/M, Fluff, Humiliation, Kissing, Loss of Virginity, Rape Aftermath, Rape/Non-con Elements, Secret Relationship, Sex, Smut, Swearing, Tagging as I go, Verbal Humiliation
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-05-29
Updated: 2018-06-02
Packaged: 2019-05-15 13:52:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 4
Words: 12,388
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14791727
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sigynstark/pseuds/sigynstark
Summary: Sherlock, John and Mycroft became substitute teachers. They're obviously looking for something.Whatever that 'something' is, more and more students disappear mysteriously from the Crescent High in the heart of London...(In which a certain math's professor is a sadistic madman... Mycroft accidentally discovers he's not entirely against being someone's Daddy Dom...This fic includes lots of consensual and non-consensual NSFW material. Read it on your own risk. You've been warned!)





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I'm a fic hoarder! There, you know it!  
> I'll tag as I go! :)

"Mr Herbert had to leave your school for a while. I'll be the substitute teacher."

Most of us stared with our jaws on the floor as Sherlock Holmes wandered in the class in crisp white shirt and black trousers. I tried my best to keep a straight face, but after all that happened I was rather thrilled to learn this news. His eyes quickly examined each and every one of us at the speed of light, then he turned to the whiteboard and picked up the chalk to write up his name on it.

Like we needed that, really.

I sunk in my seat and pulled down my sleeve more so it'd cover my arms completely. I glanced at my watch; I won't survive this class. I resumed drawing a skull in my chemistry excercise book.

Him, as a substitute teacher. On chemistry. This can't mean good. I was in shit, to be honest, but I refused to show anything as I continued drawing, seemingly uninterested in the class. I wondered if John Watson was a substitute teacher now, too; just imagine that! I smiled at my drawing.

"Right! Let's start with something interesting. I'll give you samples and you'll have to check what is it."

"Sir", I rolled my eyes when I heard Catherine's voice. Always the fucking miss know-it-all. "We've been on the book's 34th page—"

"Book? The book is boring. I'll show you things you really need to know!"

Holy shit. He really did give us all samples. I checked it under my own microscope and decided I've had no idea what was I looking at. I randomly checked pics in my mostly untouched book and decided it wasn't matching with anything there. The 45 minutes passed with him walking to each and every one and talked to them about what did they see.

Honestly? He was very cool. He tried to actually help us see what we couldn't. But I was so glad he couldn't make it to my desk in time. Until then, I was writing my novel in another exercise book (I called it Novel Book, NB for short) and I packed everything in my bag quickly when the bell rang.

"The rest of you — it's your homework to figure out what's under the lens!"

I rolled my eyes. I hate chemistry and I hated homework from it. Mr Herbert at least left me alone; nobody cared about the black clothed girl in the back of the room.

I trotted down the hall and found room 432 for biology. I made my way to the back of the room again, as usual, then sat down and got my biology book and exercise book. Then I got out my NB and continued writing until the end of the break.

"Good morning, class", the unusual voice almost made me fall out of my desk. I looked up and I felt shock. Holy shit, John Watson was a substitute teacher too! "Mrs Hicker had to leave a bit and I'll teach you while she's away. My name is Doctor John Watson."

"Yes, we know", Will grumbled and most of the girls laughed at his comment.

John smiled.

"Right. Where are you in the book?"

Catherine, of course, couldn't shut her mouth.

"We're on page 23, sir."

John got the book in his hand and checked it.

"Hmm, the human brain. Alright, then I'll ask a few questions and any of you can answer if you're putting your hand up, of course. So..."

 _Great._ I resumed writing my novel. Half of the time went by this asking-answering thing (during which Catherine tried her best to answer every damned question), then the rest of it passed with reading paragraphs from the book and discussing it.

I was so glad when it was over. Both of them in my school wasn't good news for me.

I ran to my next class, which was maths, and thank God, the teacher was the same. Everyone talked about Mr Holmes and Dr Watson. I decided I wouldn't care about those chats, as usual; I sat in the back of the class and got my literature book out of my bag. Compared to most of my books, this looked straight **_old_** ; it was visible it was opened often. I put comments to everything, underlined important things. I ate a sandwich, then waited for Mrs Whittaker to finally walk in and start the class.

_Well. That did **not** happen._

A 2 metre tall man walked in the class, someone I've never seen in the school before. He walked to the teacher's desk and put his messenger bag, along with his black coat, on top of it, then turned to us and sized up the class. When his eyes met mine for a second, my flee instinct kicked in. Why? I’ve had no idea. I just wanted to leave as soon as possible, but I couldn’t do that, obviously.

"I am Mycroft Holmes", he said, quiet and calm, since his appearance shut the entire class up. Like Sherlock, this man had a white shirt on, but he also had a sand brown waistcoat and trousers with it and a suit jacket. He sat down at the teacher’s desk. "And I'll be teaching you for a while instead of Mrs Whittaker."

Are you fucking kidding me? **_Holmes?_** Like Sherlock? Were they related? Was it possible Sherlock had a brother?

„I’ve acquired a name list. I will go through it, now.”

You could’ve heard the heartbeats of the entire class. I stared in my notebook and pretended I did not exist. If he had a name list and he wanted to go through it, he wanted to memorise our names and faces and it did not mean Mrs Whittaker would come back anytime soon. Which was terrible news! I loved her class! I was the best, we always had nice conversations after class. She was the only teacher I loved and her subject was the only one which interested me.

And then the name reading begun.

„Adrian Alden”, he said and Adrian quickly replied ’here’. But the substitute did not proceed, he stopped for a moment and when I glanced up I saw Mr Holmes sized up my classmate. „When was Shakespeare born?”

I could feel the stress level in the class go high up. Adrian’s ears reddened, I could see from even the back of the class. I glanced down at my black nails.

„156… 3?”

„We do not have the correct date, but he was baptised 26 April 1564. F.” He got out the book in which Mrs Whittaker usually wrote our marks and opened it. The stress level in the class got boosted even higher. Some of the students started to whisper to each other. „Who allowed speaking?” Mr Holmes looked up from the book as he wrote something in it. I could see, even from there, that he wrote an ’F’. My stomach did a backflip. He wasn’t kidding! „Next, Ian Browning.” He glanced up from the list and saw Ian got his hand up, silently. „How many sonnets did he write?”

„I don’t know, sir”, Ian replied quietly.

„154. Well, then, another F.” And that another F flied in the book. „Logan Day?” Logan put his hand up. „Where was he born?” Logan didn’t reply, just shook his head. „Very disappointing. Snitterfield, Stratford-upon-Avon. F. Edgar Drake?”

As he went on with the list, he continued to give Fs to everyone. When he got to Catherine Owen, most of the students felt humiliated and angry.

„I’m here, sir”, mumbled Catherine when he asked her name.

„How many children did he have and what was their names?”

Catherine visibly shuddered.

„Three, and Susanna, Judith and… and…” Mr Holmes waited. And then, Catherine sighed. „I don’t remember the third, sir.”

„Hamnet. Judith and Hamnet were twins, actually.” He switched back to the book of marks. „You were very close. But this is still an F.”

„But sir…!” Catherine started to argue.

Mr Holmes shot her a look and the word froze on her throat. I frowned to myself. What was my feelings doing? Why wasn’t I happy someone finally told miss know-it-all that she didn’t know-it-all? Why didn’t I feel satisfied? Well… maybe because I wasn’t actually a bully. She annoyed me with her behaviour, but I didn’t wish anything bad for her.

„And the last one, Amber Walters.” Mr Holmes said and I decided I’d meet my fate with dignity. I put my hand up. When he looked at my face, I could feel my skin burn on my cheeks. „When was the collection 'Sonnets' published?”

_Wait a second! I know this!_

„1609, sir”, I replied calmly.

For the first time, his left eyebrow wandered up just a bit.

„Correct. What sort of works were those?”

_It wasn’t drama, no, none of them…_

„Non-dramatic ones.”

„Well done. When was the First Folio published?”

I could feel my hands started to sweat.

„1623, sir.”

He slightly narrowed his eyes.

„Yes. When did he die?”

_Shit._

„1616.”

„Month and day?”

**_Shit!_ **

„…I don’t know, sir.”

He arched his brow higher, then put the list back in his bag, then glanced at the book of marks.

„23rd April.” He said then, and looked up at me. „That’s an F.”

As he wrote the letter in the book I felt the blood left my face and my heart sunk in my stomach. **_F?_** _Why?!_ I answered three questions already! I answered more than anyone else in the class! **_Why did I get an F?!_** Most students in the class glanced back at me with mixed respect and sympathy. I didn’t feel what he did was justified. But I kept my mouth shut.

„Well”, he closed the book and put it in his bag. „I’m very disappointed with all of you. You’ll all have to study harder if you want to pass this class.” Will put his hand up. He got F, just as everyone else. „Yes, Mr Holloway, what is the question?”

It was rather scary to see he only read the names once and he already knew Will's seemingly by heart. Most teachers would need a few days to learn our names.

„When will Mrs Whittaker come back?”

I felt this was the question everyone was interested in. Mr Holmes stared at Will for a few moments, then he half smiled.

„I’ve been told she’s expecting a child.” The answer sounded devastating. Pregnant? Then she won’t return for at least **_a year_**. Will's hand flew up in the air again. „Yes, Mr Holloway?”

„Will we have a different substitute teacher soon?”

Mr Holmes’s smile disappeared.

„No. I will teach you until Mrs Whittaker comes back. And by that time…” He got the textbook out of his bag. „You’ll all know much more than right now.”

I didn’t realise I’ve been chewing on my lower lip so hard it was bleeding. I was so nervous I barely could sit on my chair. I realised I’ve been checking out the clock every second minute as he told us to write down what he was saying about Shakespeare’s early – and rather boring – life. And as I kept writing, I kept wondering.

Literature was my favourite class.

But it never would be again.

„Miss Walters, why are you looking at the clock so often? Am I boring you?”

I nearly swallowed my own tongue.

„N-no, sir…”

„Then I’d suggest you stop looking at it all the time. I’ll tell you when the class is over.”

I stared in my exercise book and my face burned again.

„Understood, sir.”

„Isn’t there something else you need to say?”

I looked up at him in utter disbelief. He was half smiling at me, but it never reached his eyes. He looked so cold and distant.

„I’m sorry, sir?”

He arched a brow. Then he continued talking about Shakespeare.

If he truly would stay until the end of the year, this will be some sort of nightmare class for the most of us. And this year we’ll have to be very prepared as we’d graduate… and it seemed Mr Holmes would make it very difficult for us. Mrs Whittaker was fine if we gave her at least a year to events, now it seemed Mr Holmes wanted exact dates and he couldn’t be satisfied easily.

Damnit, I did nothing wrong! I answered three questions, why did I get an F? It simply wasn’t fair!

When the class was over, everyone quickly packed and left. I sensed they were all in bad mood. I was in bad mood, too. Mr Holmes, though, stayed in the class and waited until everyone left. I usually waited for others to leave, too. When I realised it was only the two of us in the class, I fumbled a bit with my bag, then left the room without even looking at him, though I felt his eyes followed me.

I quickly left school and went home. I’ve had a small apartment and a little money from the job I’ve had. I worked as a newspaper delivery person and I got up at 4 am every day to deliver the papers before school. I’ve had a fair share of starving to be able to pay the rent and the bills. I made myself a sandwich, ate it, had a shower, then started to work on my homework. I finished them around 6, just when the bell went off. My stomach clenched with fear as I opened the door. Scott Olsen ran up on the stairs to my door, then entered my room and looked around. He was rather big compared to me, muscular, blond, blue eyed – handsome, but he was a terrible person.

„So?” He questioned and my stomach clenched with fear.

„I could get 45…”

„I told you I want 50 by tonight!”

His shout made me shudder.

„I’m sorry, I had to pay for the flat and… and I had to pay the bills…”

„I don’t care about your excuses!” I could feel a stinging slap on my face and I fell against the wall. I put my hand on my aching and burning cheek. „I want my money, when I say I want it!”

„I couldn’t! I’m so sorry… I beg you, please don’t hurt me!”

He grabbed my hair and leaned close to my ear. His breath made me shudder. He smelled like beer.

„Maybe we could come to an agreement.” His growl sent a shiver down my spine.

„Don’t hurt me…”

„I won’t hurt you if you’re doing what I tell you to do.”

He held my hair tighter and pushed me down to my knees. I sobbed, because I knew what he was thinking about. I glanced up at him from the floor and he grinned down at me, it was visible he was enjoying the situation.

„I’ll let that 5 go if you satisfy me. If you refuse, I’ll beat you.”

I hated this. Every time I couldn’t get the exact amount of money, he forced me to do this. And I refused a few times already – which resulted in a severe beating with his belt. After that I learned the hard way not to say no to him, if I wanted to keep myself away from pain. This was humiliating and horrible – I hated to do it –, but I’d try my best to forget it.

So I didn’t protest, I merely opened my mouth and let him slid inside. Then I only had to make sure I wouldn’t throw up or choke, because he firmly grabbed my hair and moved my head to his favour.

It was done rather quickly. I was feeling sick from his taste but I was so glad when he tossed me away from himself.

„Get me that 45. Now.”

I made my way to my bag and fished out my purse, feeling terrible. I got the money out. All of it. Meaning I had nothing to eat in the upcoming 3 days. And gave it to him.

„Bye later, bitch.”

He stomped to the door and tore it open, leaving me broken and alone.

 

The next morning my first class was – to my horror – _literature_. I quickly finished delivering the newspapers and got to my school way before the others. I dragged myself to the empty class, listening to my favourite – and probably quite depressing – favourite musicians on my phone.

Ironically, I had a phone on which I listened to my favourite music, but had no breakfast and my stomach was already grumbling.

So I sat in the back of the class on my chair, my legs on my desk, listening to some rather dark lyrics, when the teacher entered the room. He was quite early today. I glanced at the clock on the wall. 7.39 am. Wow, he was an early bird. As he noticed me in the back of the room, he froze only for a moment. I watched how he placed his brown messenger bag on the teacher's desk. Then, he motioned to me. And that motion told me to get the earphones out of my ears. I reluctantly did so, and upon that, he unleashed his velvety voice.

"Good morning, Miss Walters. I'd like to ask you to put your feet down from your desk. They don't belong there, do they?"

I stared at him in disbelief. Oh no, he couldn't! School didn't even start yet, it wasn't even 8! The grim look I shot him made Mr Holmes to narrow his eyes. I was about to give him some hard time.

I slowly moved. My hand. To put the earphones back in my ears. And refused to move more. I leaned back, my head touching the wall, and he didn't motion to me again to remove the earphones. Finally. Some sweet victory! But I watched him with furrowed brows as he opened his bag, got a slip of paper out of it, wrote something on it, then walked casually down to me between the desks and chairs to put the paper next to my legs. On my desk. I glanced up at him and our eyes met; he smiled softly at me – whoa, he actually was handsome when he smiled, and his cologne smelled amazing – then he walked back to the teacher's desk.

My brows furrowed further as I glanced at the paper. Then I looked up at him again; he got a book out of his bag and sat down to read it. He finished dealing with me. Curiousity got the best of me, so I leaned forward, then got the paper in my hand. Fury engulfed me the moment when I realised what it was.

A nice little note that told me I must attend detention today from 4pm to 6pm.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "He's hot too, though."
> 
> (If I had so many hot teachers at my school, my head would totally explode LOL! Sidenote: Jim is a sadistic madman. There, you're warned.)

I was still staring at the paper as I slowly slipped my legs off the desk. I stopped my music and got the earphones out of my ears.

"Sir", I grumbled.

"Yes, Miss Walters?"

He didn't look up from his book, only questioned with his gentle voice.

"School only starts in like, 20 minutes."

"And?"

"And you're not supposed to hand out detention papers before it officially starts."

He looked up at me. Still, with the soft smile. A dead one. I was not actually entirely.... respectful.

"I see you do not know when does the school start, Miss Walters."

I gritted my teeth and through it, I hissed.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

His smile widened as he glanced at his book again.

"There's an earlier class which starts at 7 am. Officially, I can hand our detention papers from 7 am to 6 pm." He turned a page and looked up at me for a moment. "Additionally, I do not want to see your feet up like that. Ever again. Do I make myself clear?"

I felt I blushed. How dared he! What did he think, who was he?!

"Why does it bother you so much?" It slipped out and he glanced up at me again.

"Your feet belong to the floor. It's also dangerous to swing with your chair like that."

Dangerous, he said. Did he want to look better, now? Saying he only gave me a slip to detention because I could hurt myself by accident? Complete bullshit.

I didn't say anything as Will entered the room. He looked surprised to find the teacher there, but he quickly glanced over to me with a faint smile.

Ahh, Will Holloway. The talk of the school. And I was in a lucky position I could watch his face all day. I didn't talk to him, I was a shy girl, I sticked to my notebooks and music and black things, but Holloway, well... he made me feel like I was made of jelly. Even my bones. I instinctively smiled back at him as he put his backpack on his desk and started to unbutton his black coat.

"Good morning, Mr Holloway", the teacher grumbled without even looking up from his book.

"Good morning, sir", Will mumbled back, then he put his coat on the back of his chair, then ran a hand in his brown, curly hair he always wore stroked back. He glanced again, at me. Oh, dear me. "Hi, Amber."

Wow! Did the room light up at his words or is it just me? Ungh, feelings, disgusting! Especially because… I've had…

"Hey, Will", I smiled at him.

He mirrored it, then sat down on his chair, showing his back to me.

I sat at my desk and continued writing in my novel book until it was time for the class. Of course, Mr Holmes had another plan to make our lives miserable in his class…

"Everyone, get out a paper and answer me the following questions."

He gave us ten questions about Shakespeare's boring life, then he told us to write our names and the date on it, then he collected each and every one of them. When he got to my desk, he glanced down at me with narrowed eyes. I stared back up at him with the most angered look I could muster in return.

He can't punish me for my expression, can he?!

In the following 35 minutes he picked up the story where he left off and we had to write down incredibly dull, dry information concerning Shakespeare's sonnets. Seriously, why would anyone want to know how much lines he'd written? I was thinking the man was taking his obsession with Shakespeare a bit way too far.

When the bell rang I ran out first. This was a surprise for most, I nearly bumped into Will as I left. But I had two good reasons to leave in such a hurry. I bypassed a lot of students and turned down a corridor where I was finally left alone – this part of the school was under construction, but the first classroom was always open when I got here. I opened the door and stepped in; the room was empty save for a teacher's desk, at which a man in pitch black suit sat.

He was the reason I never hit on Will. I quickly closed the door and dropped my black backpack to the floor, watching him as he slipped off of the desk and took a few steps towards me.

"I've wondered where were you. The new literature teacher is giving your class a hard time?"

His velvet voice was a balm to my soul after yesterday's and today's literal horrors. I walked up to him and he wrapped me in his arms, his thin lips planting a hot, demanding kiss on mine. I wrapped my arms around his slender form, then ran my hand up to his hair, to which he purred in my mouth and grabbed my ass.

"How did you know?" I whispered in his mouth between kisses.

"Lucky guess?" He teased, then turned me around and pushed me towards the desk. When I was against it, he urged me to sit on the top of it, which I did, then wrapped my legs around him, too. "You look so frustrated baby, let me kiss your frown away."

"Sir…" I mumbled as he gently kissed my nose, forehead and eyebrows, and I felt my anger and helplessness vanish at it. "Do you think that Sherlock Holmes is here… because of us?"

His last kiss landed on my chin and he pulled away. As I stared back in his dark eyes, I couldn't help but think again how handsome he was; and he was also the math's professor.

"No", he smiled softly at me and I melted in his arms again. "He doesn't know about us and it's best if it stays that way."

"Agreed."

He tilted his head just a little bit, then gently got a hold of my jaw.

"Something's troubling you, my dear", he pointed it out. I sighed. He knew me too well. "Tell me what is it, I'm sure I can help."

"There's a man… he's… my neighbour…"

"Yes?"

"He was nice and… so I was short on money and I borrowed £200 from him and I barely can pay it back to him… and he was in my flat, last night…"

"He hurt you." It wasn't a question, but I nodded anyway. He softly ran his fingers across my jaw, under my ear and to the back of my neck. "What's his name, dear? I'll see what I can do about him."

"Scott Olsen."

"Okay." He gently scratched at the back of my neck and I closed my eyes. "Why don't you turn to me if you have financial problems?"

"I don't want to…" I shrugged, but my eyes stayed closed.

"We've been messaging each other for months and started meeting here since last week, so why not tell me?"

"I don't want to bother you with such things", I pouted and looked at him. "I sound like a whining child who can't take care of her own…"

"You're trying to stand on your feet with school and barely can get enough money with the job you have. Honey, you should've told me." He leaned close to me and kissed me softly. When he pulled away, he smiled at me. "I suspected you had problems, though, so I'm giving you a gift."

"No", I mumbled, but he reached in his jacket's inner pocket anyway and pulled out a silver card. It had my name on it with numbers and everything. I knew what it was; a credit card. I glanced up at him. "I can't accept that."

"Please, do so", he offered it to me, but I didn't want to take it. "Baby, I barely buy myself anything. And you need it. You couldn't even eat a breakfast today. Don't ask me how do I know it; I just know it and that's it. Take the card."

"I'm not sure…"

"Amber", he whispered and kissed me softly again, slipping the silver card in my hand and stroking my face with his other. He bit my lower lip and I softly moaned. "We don't have much time, now", his voice was a bit hoarse, his breath hot against my lips. "Take it so we can keep kissing each other in the remaining five minutes."

"James…" I mumbled, finally taking the card and returning his affections.

After a while again, he pulled away, then stroked his suit to hide our encounter. I smiled as I jumped off the desk and put the silver card in my wallet which I had in my black jeans' back pocket; I think right now, I should start putting my wallet in my bag…

"I hope you show up in class, though", he warned me playfully and I beamed a smile at him. "After you bought and ate a sandwich, of course."

"Of course", I nodded to him, feeling light headed, "Professor Moriarty."

After I bid him a very short goodbye, I walked down the corridors with a huge grin planted on my face. I could not believe he was planning to do this anyway today, but I was very happy about it. I decided I'd only buy only the necessary things with it; even though I knew he was driving a Porsche and had a manor all to himself just a bit out of the town. He showed me pictures of this house and I kept thinking about being there with him, but so far, we only spent time in his car. Which was rather tiny when we did anything in it. Ah well.

I ran to the buffet and bought myself a sandwich. I couldn't help but hear what the three girls were talking about at a nearby table as I paid with my brand new, shiny silver card.

"Oh my God Sherlock is so amazing and hot, I can't concentrate on anything I'm doing in his class!"

"You tell me! I swear to you he leaned so close to me I could feel his breath on my neck! And he kept talking about _ash!_ "

"Holy shit his cologne is driving me insane!"

"And John? Have you seen his face when he was smiling?"

" ** _OH. EM. GEE._** Yes, his smile! He's the cutest thing ever!"

"He's such a cutie."

"Not like the other Mr Holmes."

"Uhh I hate his class."

"He's horrible!"

"He's hot too, though."

"Yes, but he's so cold, like, I bet he's dead inside."

I bit into my sandwich and couldn't help but snicker at that comment.

"But have you smelled his cologne? It's even better than Sherlock's!"

"I wonder if they're related…"

"Totally! Must be! Even the way they move is similar."

"Well if Sherlock is the younger brother, the older brother is a prick."

"Shouldn't you all already be in your classrooms?"

The cold voice snapped in the air like a whip above our heads. I didn't dare to turn around; he wasn't talking to me, anyway, I wasn't with the girls. But they all let out a small, quiet "eeek!" when they realised who was talking to them.

"Run to class unless you all want to spend two hours in detention today. Be glad I do not punish you all for the words you've been using." A short pause. I desperately stared at the buffet's shiny boards about what we can buy here. His voice sounded from closer. I heard the girls quickly got up from their chairs. "Miss Walters", he commented right behind me. I swallowed a bite from my sandwich then turned around, totally looking bored of his picking. "Why aren't you at class? The bell will ring in two minutes."

"I told Professor Moriarty I'd be late. I couldn't eat breakfast before my literature class, sir."

He visibly narrowed his blue eyes at me. The man made my skin crawl.

"I'm keeping my eyes on you." His threat was rather alarming. My senses told me somehow, he knew… he knew about us with James… but James said it's not possible… "Go. Now."

I theatrically rolled my eyes, then bypassed him and trotted off to math's.

The girls were right. His cologne smelled good.

But that was the only good thing about him.

 

I was sitting at my desk and kept daydreaming of those lips which kissed mine only minutes ago and which were talking about the possibility of parallel dimensions. I was always amazed of how intelligent he was and how passionately he could talk about things which interested him and the class more than the dry themes of the book. Now, one of my classmate asked if there parallel dimensions existed or it was only a theory, and James passionately started to speak how and why it was actually possible for such things to exist.

I absolutely loved his voice. And now that I ate, I felt so much better. His presence calmed the entire class after that literature lesson which obviously sucked.

"Sir, can I have another question?"

"Of course, Miss Owen. Ask away."

I loved how he put his hands behind his back and how he smiled at each and every student. Even if it was Catherine who obviously pissed me off with her boot licking. She particularly was annoying when it came to James; I heard once she admitted to have a crush on him. I grinned to myself in the back of the class. _Those lips are mine and I'll never give them to you,_ I thought.

"Have you ever calculated how many potentially habitable planets are in our universe?"

Professor Moriarty laughed.

"Potentially habitable? To what? Viruses? Bacteria? Cats?" He turned around and got the chalk in his hand. "Potentially habitable for humans, let's say, we need to see where the Sun is for each and every planet. There're a lot of important things we need to measure. The size of the Sun, the size of the planet itself, the distance between them, and so forth." He started drawing up our own solar system. "For a planet to be habitable for us, it needs to fit our Earth's position and our Earth's Sun, amoung other things. Imagine, though, if a habitable exoplanet – exoplanet is a planet outside of our solar system –, had no moon; our Moon changes a lot of things for us, think about just the tide or it's effect on our bodies as we're full of water, too." He turned to look at us and he flashed a brief smile at me. He probably knew I loved him only the more when he was so clever. And showed it off. "If we only look at those exoplanets which are habitable to us, to a degree, well, let me just tell you, there are **lots**. I'm just saying what NASA discovered. According to one of my researches, however, considering the Universe is expanding and is infinite, well… what NASA discovered so far is only a very small portion of it. There must be billions." He put the chalk down, let the class absorb that information. Catherine had her hand up in the air again, but James smiled at her, only, indicating he really would like to start the lesson, now. "Alright, now, class, I would like you all to hand in the homework I gave you last week. Today's the due date, remember?"

Everyone had their papers on their desk. I had mine, too. I wasn't particularly good at it, but I started to love the class, for obvious reasons. When he got to my desk, he slipped a small piece of paper on my notebook. I quickly took it. Nobody noticed.

I knew I should've waited until the class was over, but I really wanted to know what did he write to me. So I opened my notebook at a certain page, then opened the small folded paper, and read his message he wrote in his code (which I cracked months ago, that was how we started meeting, he basically threw a test at me).

_I'd like to take you to dinner, tonight. 5pm, Tottenham Court Road?_

I cursed myself for not listening to Mr Prick to put my legs down from my damned desk. Now I have to turn this wonderful offer down. He never took me to dinner before! I felt I blushed.

I quickly wrote him a reply just under his message while I was also taking notes.

_Sadly I have to attend detention from 4pm to 6pm. I'm terribly sorry. Maybe tomorrow?_

I saw he noticed from the corner of his eyes I folded his paper in two, basically telling him I wrote him a reply.

"I'd like to ask you to copy the third paragraph in your notebooks, now. Just so you understand what am I talking about now…"

He walked down between the desks and took the paper from my hand without anyone noticing it, then walked up to his own desk. He got the math's book in his hand, opened it and started to read something – but I was sure he was reading my note. When he looked up, our eyes met, and he narrowed his. Then I saw he picked up his pen and scribbled something down.

I didn't see him putting the paper away, but when he did another round of walk, it was in my lap. Nobody noticed a thing from our small 'chat'. I got the paper up and I checked my notebook again to read his message.

_Then I'll pick you up at 6pm, here. x_

I bit my lip and glanced up at him. James winked at me with a mischievous smile.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It was round, small and white.

I could not wait for my detention to end.

However, I was very aware of the fact how mundane the work Mr Holmes would assign me. And I'd need to do it for two damned hours.

After my last class, I've had the 15 minutes break; I spent that time to find the room written on my detention paper. It was a normal room, so I made my way to the back of it, sitting in the last row as usual. I dropped my bag and got my music in my ears; I did not want to think about the next upcoming two hours. He entered the room too early. And when he was done putting his bag down, he motioned to me to remove my earphones. He started to irritate me immediately.

"Good day, Miss Walters. Would you please sit at this desk? Right now, there's only the two of us and I'd like you to be closer."

I gritted my teeth and considered saying no, but I just knew he'd punish me again for it. Knowing he could easily send me to even more detention, I got up, grabbed my bag and walked up to the second row. He was pointing at the first row, I was not stupid, but reluctant about it, as I did not want to be that close to him.

"Didn't I make myself clear where do I want you to sit?"

I wanted to shout as I shifted to the first row. I literally threw my bag against the floor, then dropped myself noisily on the chair, visibly throwing a silent tantrum, various insults wandering in my head.

"That's better. I knew you could understand me. Now." He removed papers from his bag and also a fountain pen. He walked over to me and placed the items on my desk. "Your assignment is easy. You'll be writing 'I will not put my legs where they do not belong'. Give it a try." I picked up the fountain pen, feeling it was heavier than a typical pen. I frowned slightly, then shrugged inwardly and wrote down the sentence. Whoa, it was actually hard! As the pen was heavier and somehow, the ink seemed weird as it ran too quickly out of it, it was easy to make mistakes and smearing with it. I realised rather quickly what he had in mind. When I was done with the first line, I waited for his further instructions. "Your handwriting also needs improvement, I see..." I gritted my teeth in defiance. How I wished to flip my table straight in his face! "But I will accept this first line. Continue writing it. The goal is 500 neat lines."

I stared up at him in utter disbelief at his last sentence.

"Five HUNDRED?!"

My echo made him smile. And that smile should've belonged to the Devil himself.

"Miss Walters, you're not a child, but a grown woman. And I expect you to act like it. 500 lines for an adult is not too much at all. If you can't finish it, don't worry. There's always tomorrow to attend another day of detention."

I couldn't help myself!

"What makes you think I'd want to sit here and write these stupid lines?!"

"Careful, Miss Walters. Wouldn't want that number to double now, would we?" Hrrrg, CAN'T BE! "When you've finished, I'll count your lines and will not accept those which aren't looking perfect. Start writing now. I'll tell you when you can have your 15 minutes break."

I begrudgingly started working on my assignment and it was HARD. The pen was heavy and uncomfortable to hold for a long time — I had to grip it hard, but if I did that, my muscles had to work a lot which was unusual for them —, and the damned ink ran too quickly out of it. I wondered if he had it made especially for students to write lines. I already knew which lines he wouldn't accept, so I knew I would not be able to get it done today.

It was impossible.

"You have 15 minutes break", he suddenly told me, and I glanced up.

I barely could keep my eyes open. I hid a yawn behind my hand. He was just closing his book and opened the bottle of water on his desk to drink from it. He kept his eyes on me.

I got up and went to the loo to fill my bottle with water. I glanced up at my reflection. I looked tired, but I was too excited about the dinner with James, tonight to care. I will pull through! And we'll have dinner. Nothing can change that.

I walked back to class and spent the remaining time with me sprawled on my desk, listening to my music, though not as loud as I used to. When I heard the bell, I sat up with a sigh, removed my earphones, stopped the music and continued my assignment.

My fingers, hand, wrist and even my lower arm hurt a lot. But it seemed my silent seething worked better for both of us. For me, anyway. He didn't get to punish me for being disrespectful, but oh boy, I wanted to tell him to piss off so many times. Ah well. Screw it. Only ten minutes and I'll meet James…

Though, if he's about to pick me up here today, how will I explain that to this prick here in front of me? He's going to see I'm getting in Mr Moriarty's shiny, wild crimson Porsche, and he's going to ask questions about it. And I wasn't sure I wanted that. I turned eighteen last summer, but this was a high school, and honestly, I didn't want James to get fired because of me. Or worse.

But it was his idea. And he was much more cleverer than me. I hoped he knew what he was doing.

"Time's up", the teacher told me, and I put the fountain pen down with a grimace. My fingertips burned where I held the pen, and my entire hand, wrist and arm was in soaring pain. How did he even come up with this idea? Was he a sadist? I watched as he got up and walked over to my desk, my face visibly judging the way he was looking down at me with his small smile. "Let's see how well you've done", he said, bringing back the papers to his desk. He sat down and got a red pen out, then I saw he started putting big Xs at some of the lines. "Miss Walters, I'm amazed", he looked up at me, "you've managed to write 310 lines, that is rather impressive." I didn't say anything, just waited for him to continue as I was sure he'd be an asshole again and he'd make up his mind about me passing this shit in two days. And I was right. Because his smile turned devilishly sweet. "But I also have to tell you that you've smeared a lot of lines and your handwriting is far too, hmm, how should I put this, unsatisfactory. I can only accept 23 lines for your work today. This means you still have 477 lines to finish." I visibly gritted my teeth and flushed red at his words. I knew he'd be totally unfair with me, but I didn't expect him to be such an asshole! It dawned on me. For some reason, he must've hated me. I didn't know why or what for, but he 100% did. "Do you have anything to say?"

_Yes, pick up that fountain pen and shove it up veeery deep in your tight, Shakespeare maniac ass!_

"No, sir."

"Good." He assembled my papers together and put them in his bag, along with the torture pen. "Then I'll see you tomorrow, same room, same time, yes?"

I got to my feet. Picked up my backpack.

"Right."

My reply didn't make his smile to faint, quite the contrary. I got the strap on my shoulder, then walked out the room, even if he told me goodbye, I didn't return it. I ran down the stairs and I exited the school. The cool air of London was refreshing to me. I finally could breathe, as if I was holding my breath in the past two hours. It was really good. I smiled faintly when I searched the area close by to see if professor Moriarty was around, but no. I checked my phone. 6.05 pm.

"After everything I went through with you today, I'd hoped you've learned some manners", I heard Mr Holmes's voice behind me and I went stiff as I refused to look at him. "When someone says 'goodbye' you're supposed to say the same."

I half turned to look at him when I noticed a red flash from the corner of my eyes. I turned back and saw James stopped near the stairs. I'd only need to walk down them and get in his car. I smiled as I turned back to Mycroft. I saw he was a bit taken aback at my smile. He probably never saw me smile at him before.

"Sir, can you hand out detention papers now, that it's 6.05 pm?" I asked innocently.

"Well, no", he replied with narrowed eyes.

"Okay." My smile grew wider. "Then fuck off!" I didn't wait for his reply, just hurried down the steps, opened the door of the Porsche and got in. "Hurry!" I asked James and he immediately started up the car with a quiet laugh.

"Want to escape your mean literature teacher?" He teased.

"Yeah, he's the worst."

"How's he called again?"

"Mycroft Holmes."

"Interesting."

"What is?"

I saw he navigated through the city at an alarming speed. As I put my seatbelt on though, I felt totally safe on his side.

"I'd say Sherlock's turn up is not so surprising. I mean two students disappeared last week."

My eyebrows ran up on my forehead.

"Two students disappeared? Where did you hear this?"

James grinned at the road.

"We didn't tell you lot, lest we cause panic." I rolled my eyes at his reply. We were mature enough not to panic about anything, well, except exams. "But seeing his brother here is not quite needed."

"Why, isn't he a detective himself?"

"No."

"How do you know?"

"I did a little bit of research. He does a lot of things, but I think it's safe to say he's working for the British Intelligence."

"The Secret Service?"

"Exactly."

"Wow."

"Also a highly ranked officer, at that. But I've asked him what was his job before he came here and he replied he was in a minor position in the British government. Something about him is slightly alarming."

"Don't you think it'd be safer if he didn't see us together?"

James glanced at me momentarily, his eyes a black abyss I was ready to fall into at any moment. His presence filled up the small interior of his Porsche and I was drawn to him like a moth to the flame. Well. Let's hope I won't burn myself.

"It's fine."

"How can it be?"

"He won't tell a soul. You don't have parents, or a guardian, even, and you're already above 18. Why would he give us trouble?"

"Because you're working in a high school and you could be fired and ruined?"

"I took that risk, didn't I? Worry not, Amber. I know what am I doing."

 _I hope so,_ I thought.

"So, Mycroft Holmes's appearance is quite strange to me", he mumbled as he continued watching the road.

"They must think something is weird about the disappearances, then", I figured.

"Yes, but don't be alarmed. Just don't go home alone and you'll be fine."

I glanced at him when he stopped the car before a restaurant.

"Well. I'm not going home alone today, right?" I smiled at him and he smiled right back at me as we both removed our seatbelts.

"You will not go home", he replied with a grin. I felt I blushed and he laughed as he got out of his car. "Wait for me", he told me and closed the door, then walked to my side and opened the door for me, too.

"Thank you", I smiled at him, still having my backpack in my hand and butterflies in my stomach.

"Let's put that in my car's trunk, hmm?"

We did. Then we went in. The first ten minutes was spent with thinking about what should I eat, but then my thoughts always wandered back to his comment. It was happening. Really happening! We'd definitely make progress tonight. I was so nervous. When our waiter arrived, we placed our orders and he also asked for a glass of red wine. At my furrowed brows, I glanced at him and he smiled back.

"Judging by the way you look at me from time to time, your frown and the way you're biting your lips, I see you're upset about tonight. Don't worry. I'll treat you right. And the wine will help you to relax."

I only got more nervous at his words.

"But... I..." I mumbled and he took my hand gently.

"You're a virgin, yes, I know." He rubbed my hand and I blushed cherry red. "It's exciting for me too."

"How did you know?"

"I know too much for my own good."

His reply was a bit off and odd, but I didn't comment on it. Our drinks arrived and he told me to proceed with the wine, which I did. The first glass didn't make me feel particularly better, the second did. We continued talking about things, or rather, he continued the topic he was talking about in my math class, and I eased into the rythm and tone of his voice.

When we left the restaurant, however, I started to get nervous again. I sat in his Porsche quietly, watched him as he was driving and kept thinking about what would happen to me in his house. Wow. I was about to see his manor! As a billionare, he probably had the biggest house I've ever seen. And I was quite right. He smiled at me when he opened the door of his car for me; and I followed him inside. The vast hall took my breath for a moment but he didn't really let me look around. He got a hold of my left hand and pulled me up the stairs which led both to the right and to the left after a short staircase forward and up. We turned right and he opened a door — a door, to a bedroom. Whatever calmness the wine managed to give me, it was gone by now.

"Amber", he said quietly as he turned up the light so he could see me. He cupped my face in his hands and kissed me softly. When he pulled away, I was as red as a tomato. "What's on your mind, now?"

"I've had no shower before we met." I bit my lip. "And you did."

"Did I?" He cocked a brow.

"You're in a new shirt, new tie, even if the suit jacket is the same. And I also feel the scent of your shaving foam."

"Whoa, clever girl", he tickled me under my chin. "So, would you like to have a shower, now?" I blinked. Slightly terrified. He pulled his lips into a grin. "Don't worry about not having clothes here; you can return in a towel." Suddenly, a lump in my throat came into existence. "And you can use my soap to shower with it."

"James... is this really a good idea?" I asked, unsure, and he chuckled.

"The best idea. And call me Jim." He leaned closer to me. "I can't wait to see you, bare naked, on my bed." He pulled away and grabbed my hand to pull me out to the stairs. He showed me the door on the top of the left side of the stairs. "There's the bathroom. Hurry, Amber. I want to taste you as soon as possible."

I chewed on my lower lip as I glanced at him. He smiled back at me and walked back in his bedroom. I was wondering if I said no now, would he take me back to my flat? Probably yes. But after all he'd done for me, it wouldn't be fair. And I also wanted to be with him, in his bed. So with a sigh, I walked to the bathroom and entered.

I chose his shower instead of the big bath in the corner and got undressed completely. I picked up the neutral scented soap and scrubbed myself all over, twice, to be certain I didn't smell anymore. Then, with a heavy sigh, I wrapped a towel around myself and hurried back in his room.

He was sitting on the edge of his bed, the suit jacket and tie was missing and he was typing something on his phone, but he looked up at me and tossed his phone on the nightstand when I arrived and closed the door.

The air got suddenly hot between us. I literally felt the electricity between us as he got up and started to walk towards me; his smile sent hotness down my spine.

"Good girl", he smiled at me and I blushed anew. "I'd hate to spend too much time with undressing you. Come. Don't be so frightened."

"I'm just afraid..." I mumbled, but my voice got carried away.

"Of what?"

"That I screw it up."

"There's no way you can screw it up, Amber. Promise. Tell you what; you just lie down on your back and I'll do everything. You don't need to move at all, if you don't want to."

"I'm not... sure", I mumbled and he took my hands with a smile.

"Take this pill, then", he said, slipping a small, white pill in my right palm. "It will help you relax."

"Am I supposed to take it with wine?"

"Of course."

I didn't want to take it, but I trusted him. I checked the pill and didn't see any writing on it. It was round, small and white. He didn't push me, just smiled at me when I glanced at his face again. Then I sighed and quickly swallowed the pill.

Jim watched me, then picked up a bottle of water from his nightstand. I accepted and thanked, then drank a bit.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "You're totally safe."

The rest of the night was total blur.

I remember I suddenly felt like I was very drunk. The experiences felt like I was in a dream; the soft bedding and the towel under me, his hushed tone, my pleading to stop whatever he was doing to me — and pain. Mixed with pleasure. I couldn't tell apart what was real and what wasn't. I felt like I was drunk; I couldn't really move and when I did, he easily pushed me back down.

I was so confused.

But I remembered somewhat clearly when...

"I'll put it in."

"Nno... pleez..."

"It won't be that bad, promise. Amber. Focus. Look at me."

"Nnnahh—"

I felt his fingers on my cheek. When I looked up, he was grinning.

"You're absolutely stunning, dear. And now... you're mine." I tried to push my thighs together, but my muscles refused to work. I felt something moving to my entrance. Something... warm and hard. "Here, this... you really are a virgin. I can feel it. I'll be gentle, alright?"

"Nnoo— stahp— Idon..."

I couldn't speak normally. I slurred the words so much they were totally incomprehensible.

"I'll push, slow. You're so tight. I'll have to rip this tiny... hymen..."

"Nnnooo!"

"There. Done. Did it hurt?"

"Yehh..."

"It wasn't that bad, was it? I'll move."

I felt tears in my eyes and did my best to protest. Then — the pain was gone. I felt his hands on my body, stroking, kneading, gently scratching my skin. He moaned from time to time and continued telling me how tight and pretty I was.

Then — I think I passed out.

The morning found me dead tired. I felt James shook me awake first, then I fell right back to sleep. I faintly recognised I was still bare naked, wrapped up nicely in the soft silk sheets.

"Amber. We need to go to school, now. Get up." I felt his hand on my shoulder again, shaking me. A bit harder than last time. "Come on. We'll be late and your first class is with Sherlock."

That somewhat woke me up. I rubbed my eyes and finally sat up. I ran my fingers in my hair and grimaced.

"How are you feeling?" I heard him ask as he gently cupped my face. "You mumbled a lot in your sleep."

"I... I'm not sure."

"Come, get dressed, dear. I brought up your backpack. Maybe it'd be best if you used a pad, just in case."

I glanced at him through my fingers and whined quietly. A pad. Was I bleeding? What if I bled a lot? Oh God this is so embarrassing.

"Hey", he mumbled with a half smile, "it's totally normal to bleed. Did you know? Not everyone does. And even you only bled a little. Don't worry, I put the towel under you." At my expression, he must've figured I've had several questions concerning the... act. "I used a condom honey, and I made sure it didn't break. You're totally safe. Now. How are you feeling?"

I felt he started to put my knickers on me and I had so many mixed feelings about yesterday. My first emotion though, for some unknown reason, was sadness. I knew I wasn't there when it happened, and I wanted to be. Even if it was really painful. Then... I felt like something was taken from me. I watched him as he pulled my knickers up until my knees, then he put the socks on me and my jeans. Then he stood me up and pulled the clothes up on my body. I didn't protest, didn't cover up, I tried to get to terms with the facts and my feelings.

"Amber, talk to me."

He got my bra up from the bed where he put it a moment ago, and he gently slipped it on me. I had a lump in my throat.

"I'm fine." The lie sounded genuine. I could sound like I meant it. "I'm just tired."

"That's totally normal." He reassured me. I got my shirt in my hand and started to put it on without his help. I still felt like my muscles weren't what they used to be. I was weaker than usual. My right arm and wrist, hand and fingers hurt; probably because of last afternoon's detention. "I'll take you to school. Do you want to have breakfast?"

At the mentioning of breakfast, I started to feel nauseous.

"No, thank you."

Sitting in the car with him I realised that his driving style was not agreeing with my stomach at all. I felt dizzy and weak, and whatever remained in my stomach unprocessed threatened to spill out on the panel inside. We arrived quickly, though; I didn't even care who saw us when we got out of his car. It was still early though because only a few students lingered around the building. I didn't look at them. I put my backpack's strap on my right shoulder and waited for him to join me. He beamed a smile at me and I weakly, faintly, but smiled back.

My first night with him, now, seemed to be a nightmare. But he seemed he was so caring as he walked next to me up the stairs and continued talking to me.

"I'd like you to have at least a yogurt for breakfast. Okay? Promise me you'll eat something, Amber."

"I promise", I mumbled automatically.

I couldn't wait for the moment to be separated from him. And when that finally happened, I visited the first loo I came across. I closed the lid and locked myself up in there, then leaned down and hid my face in my hands.

I sobbed.

I was totally sure I asked him several times to stop what he was doing. And he didn't, not even once, stop what he was doing. I wondered what did he give to me but I wasn't sure I really wanted to know. I cleaned myself up and put a pad in my knickers just in case, then checked my reflection in the mirror. My eyes were bloodshot, probably from tiredness and crying, but those eyes couldn't move away from my neck.

What were these?

I tilted my head up and gently touched my neck. It seemed there were several little, round, red marks on my skin. My tears gathered anew.

It looked like someone was strangling me and I've had no idea when and how did that happen. Then it hit me again, deep and hard. Someone was strangling me. I grew nervous. What would anyone think of my bloodshot eyes, my marked neck? I searched for my makeup bag in my backpack and put some foundation on my neck. That should do it. I swallowed nervously and shook my head, leaving the loo quickly. I went to the classroom where Sherlock's lesson would be. Some of the others were already present when I stepped inside, but only one of them glanced up at me.

"Hey Amber", Holloway's smile released a bunch of butterflies in my stomach.

"Good morning, Will", I mumbled back as I made my way quickly to the back of the classroom, tripping in my own foot once, but not falling, fortunately.

I sat down and gathered my books for chemistry. When I realised I didn't even look into my homework Sherlock assigned us the last time, I let out a quiet whine. Oh no! If he was just half as bad as his brother, I am doomed! As I stared at my notebook where I wrote up the homework, I felt someone shifted closer to my desk.

"Amber, I was wondering…" The hesitant voice spoke to me only moments ago, I was still surprised when I glanced up at Will. He had his backside against the desk which was in front of mine, his arms stretched as he relied on it, half sitting on the desk and the top of the chair. "Would you like to go and check out the renewed zoo with me? I've heard they have a bunch of new animals and it's even bigger than it was."

I stared at him for a long time before I could even blink. What? Zoo? When? With him? Why?

"Alone?" I asked and I blushed at the speed of light. "I mean… only the two of us?"

Will glanced at his feet and smiled faintly, his own cheeks becoming a little pink, too.

"Yes. This Saturday. Just the two of us." He looked back in my eyes. "Is that okay?"

My first reaction was overwhelming happiness. Then that turned to dread. Would Jim let me? What would he say if I didn't tell him and he found out? Even worse, what would he do if he found out? I felt I tensed and I frantically tried to make the best decision without bursting out in tears from the pressure.

"You don't have to reply now", he smiled when he saw I was totally struck by the news, "I'll give you time, okay? Say, decide it by Friday, and tell me, okay?"

I felt so relieved. Maybe until then I can sort this mess out in my head.

"Yeah, that's a good idea, thank you."

"You're welcome." He smiled at me – releasing a bunch of new butterflies in my stomach – then walked back up to his own desk and sat down.

"Good morning, class", I've heard Sherlock's voice too early for me to write down any sort of reply for his question. "I hope you've all figured out what was under the lens by now." I hid my face in my hand. "Those who did not, put your hand up." I sighed and prepared myself for detention again. But it wasn't just me who put up their hands. There were three others. "Alright, I'll go to you each and we'll discuss what you see. The others – stay quiet, okay?"

Then he started to walk to each and every one of us and quietly discussed the sight with them. I checked my microscope on my desk. But I still felt so miserable I couldn't realise what it was. I checked my book just when he finally came to my desk. When our eyes met, I saw his moved across my face and down my neck. Then he leaned down to my microscope and checked whatever it was.

"So, tell me, what do you think, what is this?" He asked me quietly and I sighed.

"I absolutely have no idea, sir."

"Think a little, check it again. Notice those tiny blotches to the right?"

I checked it. He was so close to me. And the girls from yesterday was right; he did smell good.

"Yes."

"Any ideas what are those?"

"No."

"Guess, then."

"I was thinking it was a piece of clothing."

"That is actually correct." I furrowed my brows and glanced at him. He looked so serious as he was still watching my neck, but when I moved, he quickly glanced up in my eyes. "You never liked this subject, is that correct?" I blinked at him, confused. He didn't let me answer. "You'll work on this today, okay? You don't need to write an essay like the others. Try and figure it out. I'll give you time." He straightened his back and walked up to the front. I stared after him with wide eyes. What was this? "Class, I want a two page long essay about what is under the microscope. You'll need to turn it in tomorrow. For now, I'd like you to read page 32 and 33."

I opened the book and stared at the words. But nothing made sense to me right now. I could only think of what Jim did, what Will said and how Sherlock reacted to me. The rest of the class passed in a daze for me. What were my feelings doing? And if Sherlock noticed anything – why did he even care about it?

Doctor Watson was early for the biology class. But he started to talk to Catherine who immediately bugged him with questions. He replied with a smile on his face to every question she had. I stared at him and my head was empty. When the bell rang, he smiled at us.

"Alright class, we'll continue our work with the brain, specifically, I'll talk about narcotics you might encounter by will or by accident." He picked up the chalk and started to write up a word. A few people laughed a little. "Yes, you might think sugar isn't a narcotic, but believe me when I say the brain can be addicted to it. Many of us drink and eat a lot of sugar just because we like the coffee or tea with a few spoonfuls of it, and while a small amount does no real harm, taking it to the extreme could."

"As it is with everything else", someone pointed out.

"There are some cases when this isn't true. I'll get there soon. Let's see; coffee, you already know it can cause addiction. Smoking, also typical. Alcohol, you know that too. But what if you go to a party and something is slipped in your drink by someone? Or you're offered a pill and you have no idea what is it, but you take it anyway, for fun?" He wrote up the words 'club drugs'. "Mostly, an assault doesn't look like an assault. Someone nice buys you a drink; maybe you don't know them, maybe you do. Then, as you proceed drinking that drink, you feel drunk, more drunk than you should be. There's a high chance then that you've been given one of the following." He wrote up the words Rohypnol, GHB and Ketamine under 'club drugs'. "Symptoms can seem like it's just the alcohol's doing, but there are some which can suggest you've been drugged. I'll write them down."

As nobody moved and it was complete and total silence, I knew the others had the thought in their heads to memorise everything they see now because it might save them from assault. I, on the other hand, felt utterly mortified at the words Dr Watson wrote on the black board.

Muscle relaxation or loss of muscle control, difficulty with motor movements, drunk feeling, problems talking, nausea, can't remember what happened while drugged, loss of consciousness, confusion, problems seeing, dizziness, sleepiness, lower blood pressure, stomach problems and... death.

Each and every word felt like a powerful punch in my stomach.

"Some may appear, some may not. Note that I only wrote up the symptoms for Rohypnol, also known as a date rape drug."

My stomach turned upside down. I felt like I was watching myself like I was out of my body. The majority of the class went with talking about how to notice if we were drugged and what to do if we suspect it happened, but I felt like I was in a dream and I couldn't control my body, I just sat there and stared forward.

I stayed on my chair, unmoving, when the bell rang. Then I slowly gathered my things and wandered off to literature. There was only a thought in my head which I couldn't believe it was real; that what happened yesterday was… it was r…

"Miss Walters, are you here?"

I realised I stared at Mycroft Holmes's face. He stood in front of me in the corridor, with his umbrella and coat in one of his hands, his bag in the other. I blinked at him. I felt incredibly nauseous, and the sight of him only made it worse for me. Even worse, Sherlock stood next to him. I gawked at them with lips pressed tightly together, then I nodded.

"Would you answer me why aren't you in your assigned room? Literature will begin in two minutes."

The literature substitute looked annoyed with me and I realised what did I tell him just yesterday. At the same time, I knew I'd need to answer – I'm sorry sir, I don't feel quite right at the moment. As a matter of fact, I managed to open my mouth to reply.

But instead of a reply, something else came out of my mouth. Something more solid.

I had to lean forward to avoid throwing up right on his face or expensive looking suit, deciding his shoes were perfect target anyway.

I heard he yelled in surprise and he stepped back immediately, but he could not prevent the disaster. I quickly slipped a hand on my mouth and turned away. Somehow, I managed to force it back as I ran off to a loo to continue emptying my stomach.

I didn't dare to come out of the loo for at least twenty minutes, way far into the class for me to join it. He'll kill me! Oh my God, my comment to him yesterday and this, now! I'm ruined! I'll never graduate, he'll see to it himself!

I managed to stop crying when I finally left the loo and to my surprise, John Watson was waiting for me.

"Miss Walters", he smiled at me gently, "I am here to escort you to the medical room."

"But… my literature class…" I mumbled weakly, but he chuckled.

"It's cancelled. And also your detention for today."

I sighed a breath of relief and followed him to the medical room where I was asked questions… by Sherlock Holmes. I lied, saying I probably just ate something bad and they believed it. Or so they looked like I did. When I left the room, I left the door slightly open and I heard they were talking about me.

"She's lying." Sherlock stated.

"Why?"

"Moriarty did something terrible and she's afraid people would know."

"What? Something terrible?"

"Doctor Watson, you still haven't spent enough time with me to figure out things easily? Surely you picked at least a little bit of knowledge up while you were with me." Sherlock's tease earned a grunt from the doctor. Then the detective started to speak horribly fast. "She's wearing the same clothes, meaning she didn't spend any time at home; Mycroft said he saw her get in Moriarty's car yesterday; I saw her getting out of the same car this morning, meaning? She spent the night at the professor's home. She looks pale, downright sick, she's been confused as to where she was in my class, it seems to me she's still in shock because of something, she had nothing to eat today – she brought no food with her and I hadn't seen her in the buffet –, her eyes are bloodshot – she's been crying –, she's paler than usual and she threw up on Mycroft's shoes."

"So… are you suggesting Moriarty…" John didn't finish the sentence. "Damn, we need to ask her about it, tell her it's okay, we need to comfort her and help her with this."

"No."

"Why?"

"Because she's afraid of him."

I bit my lower lip and decided I've heard enough. I silently made my way out of the school, knowing well Jim would notice I didn't look for him while I wondered, was I really afraid of him, now…?


End file.
